Journeys End
by Res Nullius
Summary: A collection of poetic short stories taking place after the final battle. Sorrowful tales of how they each made a sacrifice for love. If only love could save us all...
1. One Last Golden day

A/N: I've begun to create a collection of these stories. They are just situations happening after the final war. Each one is about a different character. They're pretty poetic, so if you like such stories, this is for you. Enjoy.

Story 1: One last Golden Day.

Harry stood at the waters edge, through not really knowing where he was. He breathed in all that he knew, and deeply swallowed his past. He was willing to leave it all behind. And though the angels cried out too, they couldn't stop the pain inside. The pain, that said he had one last golden day. And through the memories that flowed by, he saw his friends laughing and he cried inside. No one really understood all the pain all the sorrow that he felt every night when he slept. And every morning when he'd wake. And through that faint period when he would dream… when he would dream. And he knows that the time is near as he watched the sunset die. And time fly, though the moments when he didn't cry. When he laughed with Ron and made up predictions on their star chart. When they plotted how to get Malfoy expelled. When Hermione would be the voice of reason. Although they always got her to laugh anyway. And how he had envied all those times he saw Mrs. Weasley at her children's side, wishing he could be one of her children too. What would they all say, if they knew he had one last Golden day? He remembered the warm touch of his Godfathers hand when he put it on his shoulder, saying all would be all right. How he lied, that everything would be better in the end. They had both known the truth, but at least it was comforting for that moment, when they had each other. And How Dumbledore's eyes would twinkle when Harry called his name. And the pride Harry would always feel when that headmaster would smile his way. And those times he would talk to him and that old man would understand while secretly revisiting his own past. When Ginny would offer to take his hand. He had never felt so good, yet felt so bad. He knew then he had to leave her behind. They were running of time. And what would she say, if she knew he had one last golden day…? Broken apart, by all those times he and Ron would stay up at night and talk about everything, yet nothing at all. All those times Hermione would smile guiltily to herself when she promised she wouldn't help them with their exam notes… and then did anyway. And those simple moments when all three of them would walk down by the lake and not talk at all, but just walk side by side and ponder, enjoying one another's company. When Harry would savor those moments of feeling like a normal teenager. Like he was just like everyone else. He never had a friend growing up. Ever. His cousin had made sure of that. He had always been that weird Harry Potter in baggy clothes and messy hair. The boy who could never be heard saying a word. He had never told Ron or Hermione any of that. He never needed to. When he had met them, everything had changed. He had friends. Someone to talk too. To sit by. To laugh with. And they would never know how much that meant to him. If only they knew. And these past few days, as he saw average people walking around while laughing and chatting merrily, he wanted to slap those stupid smiles off their faces. It wasn't fair. Because life's not fair… although it should be. Torment and torture where soaked up in his green eyes. He would never ride a broom ever again. He would never laugh with Ron, or argue about homework with Hermione. He would never hold Ginny's hand… What would they say to him now? Did they know that he had one last Golden day? The pink and golden sky reflected on his glasses. The day was growing dim, and only a sliver of the sun was still showing. It was slowly fading. and so was he. He enjoyed it for the last time.

"Are you ready?" Asked a soothing voice from behind him. "It's time to let it go, Harry. Let it go."

Harry nodded. He was afraid to look down. Afraid to see a bloody stain on his shirt where blood would be spilling from his broken heart. Holding back tears and displaying a sense of dignity with his head held up high, he walked toward a figure on the ground. He looked over the dead body of a boy who had once carried to many burdens and sorrows. The boy who had been tormented by the past he did not know and the lightning shape scar that rested on his head to remind him painfully everyday. The boy who had once so strongly believed that once he died, all his pain would end. The voices of his friends running toward his fallen body echoed in his ears. The voices that would soon be only a memory. He didn't want to watch their reactions when they found his lifeless shell. So he looked back only once more at his friends running his way, if only at a distance. Then he stepped away from his body. And Joined the group of fallen heroes that lay before him. James smiled at him. Sirius gazed warmingly at him, and as he grabbed his mother's hand to eternally join her, he heard Dumbledore whisper in his ear, "Death is but the next great adventure."

With a restless tear and a wondrous smile spreading across his face, he walked into the dead sunset with the others. All weights lifted. The dark Lord dead, and his mother and father at his sides. Death was to be the next great adventure, and the past was but a memory that he had left behind. He would only ever stop to cherish that one last moment, when he had kissed Ginny, when he sat by Ron, when he talked to Hermione, when he won the battle, and before hand, when they had all put their weary heads together in silence and remembered all they had ever been through together. What was to be their last moments to ever see each other face to face. For it had truly been his one, last, golden day.


	2. Beyond a Dream

Beyond a dream

Ginny watched the world through dimmed eyes. Her soul was bursting from agony and lies. And her heart had begun to break against the will of fate. And she wondered why, she had never cried before. Not like this. Not for him. Not in a dead world, so dim. And she closed her eyes and she took his hand, but when she opened them, he was gone again. And her hand was cold. Like the wind. She had never been so alone before. Refusing to accept the world anymore. She screamed in her head. And pleaded to have him back. But her soul told her 'no' and her mind pulled a knife to slaughter those thoughts. To forget about him and her world that had gone so gray. Like darkness on the lake. And she opened her eyes and stared at the moon in surprise. There was a man on the hill with a firefly stare and dark black hair. He didn't speak nor did he smile. He just stood there and gazed at her for a while. He was not real… Or could it be? Had he returned to her? But what was that shadow upon the hill when her love's body lie dead on the ground? Then who was that man, who looked her way? And whispered in the wind 'everything will be okay. Don't cry and I won't die, as long as you remember my name. I'll still be yours. I'm here. So close your eyes and take my hand and I know that miracles will happen, if you just believe I'm here. I'll take you away, beyond this dream. Away with me.' But Ginny stayed, and dared not to move. For those green eyes, those haunting green eyes just died in her arms. Who was this man on the hill? Who swore if she didn't cry he wouldn't die. How could that be true while his body laid there, broken and quiet in this faded summer's noon? She pulled up her might and she wiped off her tears and walked to her love on the hill. But the closer she got to those green eyes the more she'd cry and the more his memory would fade, beginning to die. She couldn't help but cry harder as she ran to his outstretched hand on the hill. He was begining to fade with a tear on his face. So she ran harder than she had ever run in her life and right when she thought, she'd feel his fingertips. He was gone. Diminished into the night. No one was there. There was no man on the hill, just her. A girl now the shadow on the hill against the pale white moon. And the harder she'd cry the more he tried to say those words again. But she wouldn't listen. He said it once more to the girl of his dreams: 'don't cry and I won't die, as long as you remember my name. I'll still be yours. I'm here. So close your eyes and take my hand, and I know miracles will happen again. If you'll just believe I am here. I'll take you away, even if it's just in your dreams. Away with me.' But she had fallen to hard to know he wasn't really gone. So he gave up and decided to lead her on. To a place beyond her dreams, away with him. Just like he promised her. So Ginny followed that quiet voice, that smooth young whisper that flowed through the air. And she walked through the dark. Until she reached a place she thought she'd never see again. A silent veil in a darkened room. With that beautiful whisper calling her to her doom. Her fate. This blissful dream. She pulled back the blowing curtain of the whispering archway and saw his hand. She took it… never to return again. Smiling beyond this dream. And though nobody ever knew where she had gone, they all assumed it was too much for her to take. They all assumed her dead, as dead as he, Harry. The boy who died. The world would never know that they were dancing upon faded stars and running past a blissful moon, away from doom. And toward love. Beyond a dream.


	3. The Time Has Come

The time has come

Hermione's thoughts were so light, as she gazed into the starry night beyond the realm of fear. And she wondered why he left. Why he thought he could win and live. And even as Ron holds her, she still doubts she'll ever be whole. What is this feeling within? This unbreakable sorrow that not even Ron could shatter. And she remembered when Harry swore, they would make it to see the sun, and as she watched the fading sky, she wondered if had glimpsed before he had died. And the tears of the bodies around could not ever be shed away. The silence from her heartbeat, tells her everything she needs to know. Why did he think, he could fight alone? Without them… without her… Hermione couldn't forget his face, when there was danger and he said he' be okay. Then why was the golden trio down to two and why was the world so blue..? No matter how hard this girl tried, she couldn't forget the time, when she helped him through on that darkened noon when his Godfather had met his doom. And she wondered where he was now. If they were finally somewhere together. And she pulls away, from Ron's warmth and those haunting shades of gray, and walks to Harry's tomb alone. But as she approached, she saw, she wasn't standing alone in the chilly, cemetery fog. There was a crowd upon their knees, by his resting stone as though they were respecting a king. Candles were upon their hands, and some of them hummed in their white dresses, a sweet song of the dead. Hermione didn't know what was happening, but she followed her mind and she kneeled at their side and gazed at the tomb that lay before her. With it's brightly etched words and it marble glare against the fiery stare on the candles. Some of the white-cloaked beings were crying so hard, whether in happiness or in sorrow, for this soul-saving king with a name she knew only to well. And she didn't know whether to dance and hum in this boy's heavenly grace, or weep and his withering shadow. So she watched the tombstone reflect in the eyes on the figures around her. Then she closed her weary eyes, wishing she could fall into the sky, and when she opened them she thought she'd die. But there was someone tapping her shoulder. Little pale fingers of a small pretty girl who smiled and fiddled with her little torn dress, that was not white like the others but deep red, as though a crimson sun had melted upon it. The little girl smiled and Hermione noticed her skin was burnt as though licked by the deadly tip of a flame. But the girl just stood there and smiled. Then she walked through the crowd of kneeling people and walked to the icy tombstone. She etched one small finger on the engraved words: Potter. And then pointed to her self. Hermione didn't understand, what the little girl wanted to say, for she wouldn't speak as though he voice had been taken away. And she walked back to Hermione and took her hand and placed upon the small girl's very own heart. And with tears in her eyes, she realized it wasn't beating. Then the little burned girl placed her tiny palm to the older girl's head. And Hermione's vision flashed. She saw a terrible fire and woeful screams, as deatheaters burned the home… and family. And there was the little girl, not yet burned in her small satin dress, crying for someone to save her. But time grew to late, it does not favor some so small, so the little girl died with them all. And the deatheater's laughed and vanished away and Hermione's sight returned. And when she opened her eyes, she realized all the other figures were now standing and gazing at her with sad smiles covering their faces, some still had tears in their eyes. And then Hermione understood, it all seemed to fit as the little burned girl looked deep in her eyes trying to tell her, 'that is why.' And Hermione knew that Voldemort had burned her and she was here tonight in her torn satin dress to pay respects to the boy that had stopped her murderer.

And finally the small girl spoke as soft as a dream and whispered, "I came here to greet my hero. So did you, only, you came to say goodbye. He misses you, so please don't cry."

And Hermione wept for all the souls who had been killed by the dark side that had come to give thanks to their fallen hero. And then a familiar green-eyed, redheaded woman whispered, "The time has come." And all the white clothed beings bid Hermione goodbye and began to walk upon stairs of air, into the pale moon light as they hummed and held their candles until they had vanished into the stars, all going to greet Harry personally. The little girl was last to go. Before she descended, her small lips kissed the tombstone and all her burn marks had vanished without a trace, and her torn satin dress was now whole and white as though it had been dipped in a pool of moonlight. And she waved goodbye and walked upon air until she was out of sight. And after what seemed like hours of Hermione gazing up at the stars, a warm hand touched her shoulder. Ron knelt down beside her and together they looked at Harry's grave in peace, hand in hand. Ron looked as though he couldn't think of what to say. But he didn't need to say anything at all. Hermione understood now. And she smiled to herself and the heartbreaking sacrifice her best friend had made and she shed one last tear for his beloved memory. She knew now…he had to die…he had to die for love.

…Love had saved them all…


End file.
